


Flowers For The Dead

by kickassfu



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 14:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6332386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassfu/pseuds/kickassfu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette feels at home in the cemetery, bringing flowers to those with no visitors. She's surprised by Adrien's presence. She holds him in her arms until he calms down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers For The Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cescalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cescalia/gifts).



> This was my first contribution to this fandom lol It's weird I know...and finally I am starting to post my fics on AO3 so yay!
> 
> Anyway this is based on - Cemetery Grave-Digger - Savvas Varnavides (Cyprus), mainly this passage:
> 
> “Kollyfa are thrown on top of and not inside the grave, as you did, or else birds cannot eat and remember the dead”.Alerted by his comment, I returned with birdseeds only to find the poet’s grave covered with breadcrumbs.Days later I revisited the cemetery hoping to unravel the mystery of the man who loved the dead. Found him looking after the cyclamens on a woman’s tomb. He started talking. “All was ready for the burial but I could not proceed. There were not enough mourners present you see. Rushing to the street I bid a stranger to come here and cry”.“Did he cry?” I asked.“Yes!” he noted.
> 
> A friend, Helen, loves this passage and couldn’t imagine one of her OTP’s in it…so I did it lol hopefully it’s good and not just weird. This is pretty much angsty btw but none of the main characters die, don’t worry.

Marinette often visited the cemetery with a bouquet of flowers in her arms. She didn’t quite understand why she did so, but she felt it was necessary, not just for herself but for the dead in need of peace. Going around the bare graves, that no one deemed important enough to grant a visit, she left a delicate flower. 

Some would probably think she was being morbid and weird, but Marinette felt a sense of belonging here; perhaps all of the danger she went through to save Paris, again and again, made her in tune with death. 

Lives lost that she hadn’t saved, her own life flickering on multiple occasions, she needed this place as she needed breathing; it had already become a part of her.

 

Today, there seemed to be a new tomb, surrounded by beautiful, newly planted cyclamens. 

A flower that had become so dear to Marinette in all her time spent in this desolate place. 

After all, everything good would eventually come to an end. Which wasn’t a saddening thought to Marinette, it was comforting, an irreversible truth of the world. Things end, people die...but before that happens, they fight as hard as they can to cling to their lives. And no matter how many times something ended, there would always be a new beginning.

 

As she approached the poor woman’s tomb she noticed someone there; tears in his sparkling green eyes, filled with sorrow and heartbreak. She could recognize that small, lonely boy standing in front of a grave; the man he grew up to be, buried in quiet sobs of who he used to be - hidden in the childish hope he used to have. 

Marinette didn’t fully comprehend it, but then again she didn’t have to; she takes Adrien into a tight hug, trying to - oh how she wished he knew - make him understand he wasn’t alone. He could cry his heart out in her arms and she wouldn’t leave him, not until he could stand once again. 

 

It took Adrien by surprise when strong arms held his body; he wasn’t sure of who was trying to rescue him from the onslaught of his old feelings and it didn’t matter. In that moment he didn’t care of how this might look, of how his father would look disapprovingly at him - he just held onto the body in front of him for dear life and let himself go, like a child crying for his mother. 

Clunging to her, they both fell to the ground. Never once did she let go, never releasing the fierce and protective grip she had on him. Shushing him quietly, telling him  _ everything will be alright, he’s ok, she’s here _ , and he believed her with every ounce of his body. 

 

After what seemed like hours, but were probably just heart-wrenching minutes, his tears had stopped. Still, he didn’t let go, not yet. Her body was his lifeline, without her his heart would once again break. And so, she patted his hair, humming a song that made him feel calm and in that moment he  _ loved  _ her.

 

Finally he sighed and released her, just enough to look into the eyes of his savior. It wasn’t what he was expecting, but then again he wasn’t expecting anything concrete - in his arms sat a girl with a tender and supportive smile, a girl that wiped the tears of his face while he stared at her wordlessly, a girl full of love to give.

“ _ Marinette _ .” he had whispered. Of course it was her, even after all these years she was there for him. Even after growing apart, although they never were particularly close, Marinette cared. That thought warmed his heart more than anything else ever could. 

Once again he held her tightly in his embrace and she let him. A small, almost inaudible,  _ thank you _ , slipping through his lips.

 

**XXXXXX**

 

They both sat in the midst of fresh flowers, Adrien finally confessing what had happened. “Someone just grabbed me as I was walking by and asked me for a favor. A really simple one at that.”

 

Marinette listened, her eyes trained on him, without uttering a word.

 

“A burial was taking place, but there weren’t enough mourners present, a-and so the man had taken it upon himself to find more when he came across me.” taking a shaky breath he continued, “He asked me to come and cry.”

 

She nodded silently, her hand gripping his softly.

 

“And I did.” he finished, quietly laughing at how silly it all sounded in retrospect. It all seemed so silly in retrospect. 

Adrien didn’t tell her  _ why _ he cried. Didn’t explain how he felt when he thought that could be his mom, dead someplace far from him with no one to visit her. Didn’t say how he hoped she’d come back to him, when he was merely a child and now realizing she might have been long dead. So he cried, for his past, present and future; for what he knew and will never find out; he cried for himself and for his mom. Most of all he cried for the woman in the ground beneath him, whom people didn’t care enough to come to her burial.

 

Adrien didn’t question Marinette’s presence but was obviously intrigued, and she could see it on his face so she answered pointing to her discarded bouquet, “I’m just leaving flowers for those who need it.”

She didn’t lie, but that wasn’t the whole truth; those heavy words died on the tip of her tongue. That conversation could be left for another day.

 

In a gesture unlike herself, she brought his hand to her lips, kissing it tenderly. Chat Noir had been influencing her a bit too much.

 

He blinked once, twice, and smiled at her kindness, doing the same and finishing it off with a wink. 

This felt right and there was no other place he’d rather be than looking at her and holding her in his arms. 

 

Marinette didn’t push him away, she just nestled herself by his side more comfortably until it was time to go home. For now she’d enjoy his warmth and company. 

Making a promise to herself to visit the cemetery more frequently - the place that now had certainly become her favorite - she let out a breathless “I love you.”


End file.
